Roman

 

 

 

loving me is blood sport 

caught my scent and tears ran from you

bewitched with charm 

A bevy of sin 

daggers drawn 

disemboweled with wit

all that glittered 

lay in blood 

I’d grown fond of you 

but my belt is made from the hide 

of my last love 

and my feet are bare and cold 

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S74RW4RD's picture

Visiting this more than a

Visiting this more than a year after my first read, I find it just as powerful as the first time.


Starward

S74RW4RD's picture

This is one of the most

This is one of the most beautiful, although anguished, poems I have read in a long time.


Starward

Incompl's picture

Jesus, so long since I penned

Jesus, so long since I penned it, thanks for the love, I cant remember when I wrote it but poetry is definitely a snapshot of a feeling. 


Let your teeth show

life_used_to_be_lifelike's picture

  Ohhhh yes! What a lovely,

 

Ohhhh yes! What a lovely, bittersweet punch in the gut :) 

 

Amazing write. 


"It is a terrible thing to be so open. It is as if my heart put on a face and walked into the world" -- Sylvia Plath.

allets's picture

"the hides of my last love"

Trophy taking is an acquired art. Laughed and chuckled, then smirked at this one (implication feet will be covered with your hide for warmth) Ouch! - Love those metaphors! slc


 

 

osiriss-'s picture

sticky, like slumber in some

sticky, like slumber in some sort of lost dream about the back of a dresser and what secrets might be hidden behind the frame.

S74RW4RD's picture

I love your description here.

I love your description here.


Starward